


The Hidden Kingdom

by whilewewereyetsinners



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Gandalf is a Troll, M/M, Modern AU, Reincarnation, The Hobbit Big Bang 2017, ace!bagginshield, and they all lived happily ever after, archaeology AU, at least that's how I picture them but ymmv, he and Bilbo blindsided me tbh, hover text for Sindarin and Khuzdul, newlywed Figrid, some angst because Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-22 06:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilewewereyetsinners/pseuds/whilewewereyetsinners
Summary: Gandalf Grey is a menace. First he sends Thorin and his team on a wild goose chase for a kingdom that other archaeologists have spent fruitless years trying to find. Then they actually find it, depriving Thorin of the (well-deserved) chance to say "I told you so." And then there's the infuriating antlers in the throne room and the really annoying dungeons.Oh, and the comatose elf. Can't forget about her.





	1. In a far away land long, long ago

**Fourth Age 531**

Tauriel felt the magic slip over her skin as she passed into the familiar silence of the Elvenking’s Halls.

She’s the only elf in Eryn Lasgalen now, and perhaps the last elf in Middle Earth. For many years only she and the lords Celeborn, Elladan, and Elrohir remained. The Lord Celeborn had eventually chosen to sail, but Elladan and Elrohir hadn’t left with him. It had been some time since she’d seen them, though. Several decades? Or had it been longer than that?

She tried to remember, then gave up with a minuscule shrug, continuing through the winding hallways to her chamber. The years ran together for her now, an indistinguishable blur of going out to fight and returning to the Halls to rest and resupply. And then the cycle began again, and again, with no end in sight.

And she’s tired. She stripped away her filthy armor and left it on the floor, knowing that in the morning it would be clean and hanging in the cabinet where it belonged, and sank into the hot water of her bath.

The centuries had brought tremendous change to the lands of Middle Earth. The spiders and goblins are long eradicated, and the orcs nearly so. The Greenwood is once again deserving of its name, verdant and glorious, the sun reaching down to the forest floor.

Yet the trees are silent now. They no longer hear her voice or murmur in return.

And still there is evil in the world. The years following the War of the Ring were such hopeful ones, but it had rapidly become obvious that the dominion of Men came hand in hand with the evil of Men.

No matter what she does, no matter how hard she fights, there is no end to evil.

She’s so tired.

The rapidly cooling water of her bath made her shiver, so she drained it and dressed in her softest, most comfortable gown, then sat to comb out her hair.

King Thranduil knew that she wouldn’t leave. (Why should she? There is nothing in the Undying Lands for her.) Whether from guilt, pity, or affection she didn’t know, but before he sailed he enchanted the Halls. Everything in them stayed in a perfect state of preservation, and only someone who had been inside them before would be able to see them.

She is the only one left who can. Even Legolas eventually sailed, leaving centuries ago with his boon companion, Gimli.

The comb creaked, threatening to snap in her grip, so she carefully laid it down and began to walk.

Gimli, who had been too young to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield with his father Gloin. He’d told her stories of his youth, wonderful stories of childhood games with his cousins Fili and Kili, of how he’d trailed after them until they’d deemed him old enough to play with, how he and Kili admired Fili’s calm demeanor even as they plotted to prank him out of it, how Kili could make anyone laugh and how he’d worked to perfect an expression of wide-eyed innocence to get himself out of trouble.

She’d seen glimpses of Kili’s humor and Fili’s steadiness in him, and a faded grief at lives cut too short. There had been times she wanted to flee from him even as she craved every memory he had.

Gimli did not follow his cousins into an early death. Indeed, when she first met him he was already older than they ever were. He survived the mighty battles he fought and lived to a venerable old age.

And may have been allowed to join Legolas in the Undying Lands.

Her hand tightened around the runestone in her pocket. She wished clawing at her chest would do something, _anything_ , to relieve the agony in it.

She knew it wouldn’t. Her hand remained in her pocket.

Almost against her will, her feet began to lead her to the dungeons.

She has fought and fought and nearly succeeded in her mission to eradicate the old evils of the world, though clearly she cannot win the battle against evil itself. She has no way left to sail, nor any desire to. She has no true desire to continue the mindless cycle her life has become, but what else is there for her? She is of a race that has begun to pass into legend and myth, and it is becoming unsafe to even be seen by mortals. Would she eventually be forced to spend the ages until Dagor Dagorath hidden here in the Elvenking’s Halls?

She had sometimes felt imprisoned here, back when the Greenwood was Mirkwood. Would it truly now become her prison?

Her feet stopped walking, and it was absolutely no surprise to realize she was standing in the doorway of Kili’s cell. After all, she always ended up here sooner or later.

She closed her eyes, remembering his expression as he told her about the fire moon, and the glint in his eyes as he teased her about his runestone being cursed. “Your mother was right, _mell nin_ ,” she murmured. “You were reckless.” And charming, and oh, so brave.

Braver than she had been. “I’m not afraid,” he’d told her, standing on the shore with death and fear and grief all around them, and he truly hadn’t been. She had been the one who was afraid to say what she really felt and do what she really wanted to do, until it was all too late and she was left with nothing but the runestone he’d pressed into her hand.

How would things have changed if she’d gone with him that day?

She tried not to let herself think about such things.

Exhaustion both mental and physical pressed down on her and she leaned her shoulder against the doorway. She looked down, watching her thumb repeatedly slide over the runestone in her hand. She would have to be more careful—the edges of the runes were beginning to soften from handling.

He’d called her something that day on the shore of the lake. She’d told him she didn’t know what he meant, and that was true, in a sense. She didn’t know what he said or its exact translation. But even so, she knew what he had meant, she had known it then, and she wished with everything in her that she had been as courageous as he was.

She gave in to her weariness and sat down on the floor, resting her head on the carved ledge where he had once sat and teased her.

“Keep it. As a promise,” he’d said.

If only it had been a promise he’d been able to keep.

She fell asleep filled with longing, and never noticed when her _fea_ left in search of him.

**_____________________________**

 

**In a not so far away land not so very long ago**

 

Thorin stormed into his sister’s office, the door slamming back against the wall.

“Yes,” Dis mused dispassionately, “I am glad I moved that picture.” Her gaze moved to her quaking student. “Go on, Ori, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ori squeaked unintelligibly and bolted out the door, and Dis sighed, the picture of mildly irritated longsuffering. “Really, Thorin, can you refrain from terrifying my doctoral candidates?”

Thorin merely glared at her, his chest heaving.

“Your meeting with Dr. Grey went that well, did it?”

“Gandalf Grey is a menace,” Thorin bit out.

Dis looked amused. “Still insisting you search for the Elvenking’s Halls, is he?”

Her brother, predictably, started pacing like a caged lion. “There is nothing left of Eryn Lasgalen! You know I loathe Masters, but he’s not a _terrible_ archaeologist and he’s spent the last decade looking for it— if there was anything there he would have found it!” He whirled and pointed an accusing finger at his sister. “And you! Don’t think I don’t know that’s why you’ve decided not to come with us this summer!”

“Is it so strange that I should decide to teach during the summer session?” she asked mildly. “I’ve done so the last two years, after all.”

“You always come with us on digs,” he grumbled mulishly, dropping into Ori’s hastily vacated chair. “You just don’t want to spend the summer wandering around in the woods.”

“I can’t say it has much appeal,” she agreed dryly, then threw her pen at him. “Oh, stop growling! Look at it this way, if you don’t find anything you can go look for something else next summer. And it’s not like you’re footing the bill for any of this. It’ll be a nice, all expenses paid, summer vacation.” She grinned evilly. “In the woods.”

There was a long pause before Thorin proclaimed, “I hate you.”

His supposedly-loving little sister laughed at him and he slumped further down into his chair. “I should have just agreed to go to Erebor like he wanted me to—this whole Eryn Lasgalen mess is probably just his revenge. But really, Dis! Even if Dale didn’t almost completely surround it, leaving no chance whatever for secrecy, there’s no way into that mountain!”

Dis nodded sagely, as though she hadn’t already heard this argument a thousand times over the past several years. “Clearly, he just wants to waste your time— and his money— by sending you on wild goose chases.” She laughed at the terrible face he made at her. “Did you at least find out who’s going to be on the team?”

“The boys, of course,” he said, referring to her sons, who were so far from being children that it really was laughable to refer to them as boys. Not that their actual ages would ever stop him. “And Sigrid— he says he expects us to find textiles and we’ll need her on site, but he also spouted some rubbish about not wanting to ‘separate two young people so newly married’ so that’s probably his real reason.”

He sounded thoroughly disgusted and Dis snorted. “Your compassion for young lovers overwhelms me.”

“Yeah, well, they can keep the romance to themselves. We’ll be there to work.”

“On nothing,” his sister pointed out blithely, completely unimpressed by his scowl.

“It’s still work, regardless,” he snapped. “Oh, and he saddled us with some man I don’t know, some linguist; I forget his name. He’s new to the faculty here.”

“Not Dr. Baggins? I met him earlier today; he’s adorable.”

“‘Adorable,’” Thorin repeated with distaste. “That’s just wonderful. I’m going to spend a pointless summer in the woods with the lovebirds, some man _you_ find adorable, and Kili, while you sit back here in comfort and laugh at me. Shut up. At least wait till I leave to laugh.”

“Don’t forget to write!” she managed to get out, before she was laughing too hard to speak.


	2. But don’t you remember? We met before.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sigrid says: “Fili, this is an invisible castle of doom, not a romantic getaway!"

**Eryn Lasgalen Expedition**

**Day One**

 

The group of five stood across the gorge from the underground palace. Four of them stared at the ornate doorway with a mixture of shock and amazement, while the fifth frowned.

Thorin had wrested an agreement from Dr. Grey that if they found nothing in a month he would be able to cut the expedition short. The team had been prepared to search fruitlessly for that entire time.

Instead, they’d searched exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes.

“This should not have been so easy to find,” Thorin said flatly, sounding almost offended. “I take back every remotely positive thing I ever said about Masters—the man is clearly a blind imbecile.”

“What—” Sigrid started, only to be cut off by Kili’s surprised, “You’ve actually _said_ something remotely positive about him? How did I miss _that_?”

Fili’s phone buzzed. “Um, Uncle?” He held it out so Thorin could see the text from Gandalf:

_found it yet?_

“Damn him,” Thorin growled so menacingly that both his nephews started laughing. “Text him back, the bastard, and tell him we’re going to make a preliminary survey and we’ll contact him when we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Will do,” Fili said cheerfully, his thumbs flying over the screen. “This is kind of incredible, isn’t it? Do you think the bridge is safe?”

His brother walked to the edge of the ravine and shoved at it with a booted foot. “Seems solid.”

Thorin snapped at him to be careful just as Sigrid demanded, “What bridge? What are you guys talking about?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

“What d’you mean, Sig? The bridge over the gorge.” Kili waved a hand out from where he was standing. “Right here. Leads up to the doors.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing there, no bridge, no doors.”

His brow furrowed. “Dr. Boggins, you see them, don’t you?”

The smaller man replied with the air of someone who’d been forced to correct the mispronunciation of his name one too many times. “ _Baggins_ , Kili. _Bagg_ — you know what, all of you, just call me Bilbo. And yes, of course I see them; they’re right there.”

Fili frowned at his wife worriedly. “You really don’t see anything?”

“There’s nothing there to see!” she insisted hotly. “And if you’re all trying to play a trick on me it really isn’t funny!”

There was a long moment of silence. Fear sparked through the anger on her face.

“Sigrid,” he replied lowly, “I swear to you. We’re not trying to trick you.”

**_____________________________**

After lunch and much discussion, Fili carried his wife across the bridge.

“Not going to puke on me, are you?”

“Shut up,” she gasped, twisting her fingers into his shirt. “Looking down was a really bad idea.”

He dropped a kiss on her temple. “Still can’t see the bridge?” he asked lightly.

She shivered, tiny tremors running through her. “No.”

“Huh. Wonder why that is, that we can see it and you can’t?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, are we almost off this thing yet?” she asked desperately.

“Your wish is my command. We’re off.” He tightened his arms around her. “No, stay here. I want to carry you across the threshold.”

She reared back to stare at him in disbelief. “Fili, this is an invisible castle of doom, not a romantic getaway!”

“She’s right, so if you’re not going to be useful get out of the way,” Thorin groused, then rolled his eyes at his nephew’s cocky grin. The boy moved to the side (though he still didn’t set his wife down) so Thorin decided to ignore him in favor of inspecting the doors.

And frowned.

“These are remarkably well preserved,” a perplexed voice said to his right.

He looked down at Dr. Baggins, who was also frowning at the doors. “Yes,” he agreed grimly. “Too well preserved. Kili, do you have the cameras back out yet?”

“Even with the protection of the overhang…” The smaller man tilted his head to the side, a move that reminded Thorin of… actually, he didn’t know who it reminded him of, but it was familiar. “Not that they look new, but they certainly don’t look as if they’ve been abandoned for millennia.”

“Here you go, Uncle Thorin!” Kili handed him the still camera and shot a laughing glance at his brother. “Shall I shoot a video of how not to behave on an archaeological expedition or just get right to it?” He pointed his camera at the doorway without bothering to wait for a reply, and frowned. “The doors look… strangely good. Are we going to be able to get in? I doubt the locks have rusted away on these.”

Without really thinking about it, Thorin reached out to try the handle. It turned easily under his hand and the door glided gently open, revealing the pristine hallway beyond.

Fili finally let Sigrid down, but kept one of his arms around her shoulders. “Can you see it yet?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It just looks like a rock face. And trees, up beyond. What do you see?”

His eyes were glued to the entryway. “It’s incredible. The doors are open now, and it’s perfectly preserved inside. All carved stone and smooth, clean floors. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” his uncle concurred darkly. “Be cautious, everyone, and stay together for now. Kili, keep filming. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it.”

Bilbo muttered something that no one could hear.

“What?” Thorin snapped.

The smaller man shouldered his pack. “Nothing, nothing at all. Let’s go, shall we?”

Thorin glared, but moved through the doorway with no comment.

The silence was broken by a hastily indrawn breath, and everyone turned to see Sigrid frozen inside the doorway, her eyes wide. “I can see it now.”

“Really?” Fili exclaimed.

“Yes.” She gazed around the space. “It’s beautiful.”

“I guess, if you like this sort of thing,” he replied. “Elvish architecture isn’t my favorite, but it is underground, so that’s pretty cool. Different. What do you think, Kili?”

Kili was looking around, a perplexed look on his face, and it took him a minute to realize his brother was talking to him. “Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s interesting.”

The group turned a corner and the caverns opened round them. Pathways curved in various directions, some carved from stone and some part of a huge, ancient root system.

And all of it was perfectly preserved.

“This makes no sense,” Thorin muttered. “There’s not even any dust.”

Sigrid darted off towards a side room. “Look at the tapestries! All the other hangings! They’re perfect!” She pulled on gloves and carefully lifted the fabric away from the wall to look at the back. “I have never seen anything like this. It’s obviously ancient; how is it still in such good condition?”

“I want to go to the library,” Bilbo announced, and started walking.

“Well, I’m going to go find my weapons,” Fili replied. “Kili, where do you think the armory is?”

“Stop!” Thorin bellowed. “Everyone needs to stop dashing off! We are all going to stay together in this accursed place!”

“Well, then we can all stay together in the library, because that’s where I’m going,” Bilbo said testily.

“You don’t even know where the library is!”

“Yes, I do! It’s right down that path, next to the secondary reception hall!”

His voice echoed and everyone stared at him, varying degrees of horror on their faces.

“On second thought,” he said weakly, “it’ll keep.”

There was a long silence before Thorin said firmly, “Right. We’re all going to go down the main hallway, right there. And we’re all going to stay together. Kili, point the camera at something besides the floor.”

They went down the hallway in complete silence, and entered an open area. There was a path leading up the center to a flight of stairs, with a throne on a platform at the top.

“This must have been the throne room,” Sigrid mused. “I wonder what an elf king would have been like?”

Thorin snorted. “Pretentious, that’s what. Swanning around, dramatically waving his cloak.” He could see him in his mind’s eye, tall and fair and despicably smug. “Arrogant bastard,” he hissed. “Probably decorated his throne with the antlers of the elks he rode to death.”

He started up the stairs, his hands in fists at his sides.

“Um, Uncle,” Kili called. “What are you doing?”

Thorin didn’t reply. He reached the top of the stairs and began yanking at the antlers.

“Stop it!” Bilbo shouted. “What are you doing?!” He and Fili dashed up and tried to pull him away, but he shook them off and climbed up onto the seat of the throne to get a better grip.

“Damn him,” he was muttering. “Damn him, damn him, damn him…” A small section of antler broke off in his hand and he threw it violently away.

“Uncle, stop, please!” Fili shouted. He grabbed for Thorin’s arm again, but missed his footing and fell down several feet onto a lower ledge.

“Fili!” Sigrid shrieked, unable to see where he’d fallen to. She and Kili ran for the staircase.

Thorin froze, his face stricken, and jumped down from the throne to pull his nephew up off the ledge and into a rough hug. “Fili, are you alright? I’m so sorry!”

“I’m fine; are _you_ okay?” He grunted as Sigrid crashed into his other side. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her head without breaking eye contact with his uncle. “Uncle Thorin, what _was_ that?”

“I…” he trailed off helplessly and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t… I was just suddenly so _angry_.”

Worse, he could still feel the rage coiled deep in his belly, and see the Elvenking leaning over him, chin out-thrust and hissing in his face. _And none of this made any sense whatsoever_.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “I think we’ve seen enough for today. Let’s make camp outside and we can investigate more tomorrow.

“Yes,” Sigrid agreed fervently.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Kili concurred.

They headed back towards the entrance much more rapidly than they’d entered it. Bilbo, Thorin, and Kili were already out on the bridge when Sigrid came to a sudden stop on the threshold.

“Oh, sorry,” Fili exclaimed. “Here, I’ll carry you again.”

She shook her head. “No need,” she replied. She felt a sort of distant pride that her voice didn’t shake. “I can see it now.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Well. Let’s get out of here then, shall we?”

He took her hand as they crossed the bridge. She didn’t tell him when his grip became uncomfortable; she just clutched his hand all the tighter.

**_____________________________**

When Thorin first began running his own expeditions he’d instituted a practice of always ending the day with something that, for lack of a better name, he called Team Review. Both recorded and videotaped for later reference, each member of the team had an opportunity to comment on things they found significant.  Normally, given the different specialties and personalities of the people working with him, he found this to be a very useful tool. But then normally, he didn’t hear things like:

“This place is creepy as hell and we shouldn’t go back in there.”

“We have to go back in there, Fili! I’ve never seen tapestries in that condition—”

“You couldn’t even _see_ the tapestries until you got inside the door!”

“Neither could you, since you can’t see them from the door!”

Fili dragged a hand over his face and ground out, “Sigrid, don’t you think it’s strange that you couldn’t see anything until after you were inside?”

“No stranger than the fact that all of you _could_!”

“ _This place is_ _not normal_ ,” he hissed. “Bilbo shouldn’t have known that there even _was_ a library, much less where it is, and we all saw Uncle go crazy in the throne room!”

“I did not go crazy!” Thorin snapped, offended.

“Beg to differ,” Bilbo cut in abruptly. “You were ranting about the Elvenking and trying to tear apart the throne. What would you call that?”

“I wouldn’t call it crazy!”

“Well, I would! And I think I know crazy when I see it!”

They glared at each other. Thorin looked away first, an unexplainable shame roiling in his gut. “Kili, you’re being very quiet. Do you have anything to add? Kili!”

“Hmmm?” he replied distractedly. “Oh, sorry. Is it my turn?”

Thorin fought the urge to roll his eyes, and summarized the (really, unprecedentedly preposterous) conversation. “Your brother thinks we should leave this place. Sigrid disagrees. Dr. Baggins thinks… well, never mind that.” He ignored Bilbo’s sniff. “What do you think?”

Kili shrugged. “Part of me wants to leave.” His eyes drifted back to the doorway to the Halls, barely visible in the half-light. “The other part… well. There’s never been anyplace like this, and there’s still so much to see. I think we should stay.”

“Fine. Fili, I agree this place is strange, but we’re here to do a job and we’re going to do it. You and Sigrid have second watch, so get some sleep. Kili, you and I are taking first. Get the camera stowed away.”

Bilbo frowned as Thorin rose to his feet. “What, am I not taking a watch?”

“Not tonight,” he replied tersely, and strode away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going with the idea that even though Sigrid became the Lady of Dale she never actually visited the Elvenking's Halls. Chapter title from Prince Phillip making moves on Briar Rose in Sleeping Beauty. Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow!


	3. I walked with you once upon a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team finds something surprising in the dungeons.

**Eryn Lasgalen Expedition**

**Day Two**

 

“So, how much do you know of this place?”

Bilbo looked startled by the suspicion in Thorin’s voice. “I don’t know anything of it. I’d heard of it, of course; who hasn’t? And I read up on it some after Gandalf asked me to join you, but no more than that.”

Thorin grunted in dissatisfaction and Fili interjected apologetically, “It’s just that you knew the way to the library and the names of some of the rooms…”

“I… well, I can’t explain that, actually.” He shrugged, then grabbed at the strap of his rucksack as it slipped. “It wasn’t a conscious thing; I just had a feeling where to go.”

“Where should we go first, then?” Sigrid asked practically. “Where’s most important?”

“How should I know?!”

She ignored everyone’s incredulous looks, insisting, “Just think about it. Where’s most important?”

Bilbo huffed a sigh, then closed his eyes, muttering, “Most important, most important…”

He started walking before his eyes even opened.

Sigrid contented herself with looking smug.

They followed him deep into the palace, though she ached to inspect every textile they passed and it took the efforts of both she and Kili to tug Fili away from what appeared to be an armory.

After fifteen minutes of walking Thorin’s grumblings grew too loud to ignore and Bilbo threw an equable, “Hush up, you,” over his shoulder.

Fili and Kili winced, expecting an explosion, but to their shock Thorin quieted and remained silent until they walked down into…

“The dungeon?” Thorin exclaimed.

Bilbo shrugged, looking bewildered. “It’s the most important.”

“It’s not very dungeon-like,” Sigrid said, slowly spinning around to see everything. “It’s rather pretty, actually.”

Thorin scoffed. “Are the bars and locks pretty?”

“Have to agree with him there,” Fili said seriously, a frown on his face. “I don’t like it here. Bilbo, why is this the most important?”

Bilbo still looked bemused. “I have no idea. It just is.”

Thorin heaved a longsuffering sigh. “Fine. Take a look around; let’s see if we can find what’s so important in this horrible place.”

They spread out to investigate. A few minutes passed, then Sigrid let out a muted shriek, making everyone jump.

Fili rushed to her, calling, “What? What is it?”

She turned an unusually pale face towards him. “There’s a person in there, dead or, or maybe sleeping.”

Fili entered the cell as far as he could with her clutching his arm. “Sleeping. I think. Yes, she’s breathing. It’s a woman.”

“What?” Kili exclaimed. “Where?” He looked through the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks, preventing Thorin and Bilbo from seeing in.

Thorin pushed irritably at his shoulder. “Move, would you? The rest of us would like to see.”

Kili began walking again, but slowly, like someone in a dream.

“Kee?” Fili called anxiously.

His brother ignored him and dropped to his knees next to the sleeping figure.

“Is that an _elf_?” Thorin demanded.

“Tauriel,” Kili breathed. His hand hovered over her cheek for a moment before falling into his lap. “Amrâlimê, mamakhhmi asti.”

There was a moment of profound silence, before Bilbo blurted, “What? What is happening?”

Thorin spun on him, looking like he was going to explode. “ _This_ is why you brought us down here?!”

“Of course this isn’t why! How was I to know she was here?”

“You’re the one who brought us here— you tell me! You were looking for what was most important and you brought us down to this, this _prison_ and there’s a bloody elf down here!”

“It’s not… not her! She’s not what’s most important! It’s you all… you, them—” Bilbo cut himself off abruptly, dragging his hands over his face. “I don’t know, all right? I don’t know what made this place feel so important, but it wasn’t her.”

“It was,” Kili breathed. He still hadn’t taken his eyes from the elf-maid’s face. “It is. She’s _everything_.”

Thorin opened his mouth to retort, then shut it again, wearing a deeply disquieted look.

“She didn’t move at all,” Sigrid murmured pensively. “You were yelling and she didn’t even twitch.”

“See if you can wake her, Kili,” his uncle ordered.

“Gently! Don’t startle her,” Bilbo added. He and Thorin scowled at each other.

Kili laid his hand lightly on her shoulder and sighed, all his tension leaving him. Finally he remembered what he was supposed to be doing and gave her a small shake. “Tauriel?” he murmured. “Wake up, agyâdê.”

Her head rolled back slightly, but she slept on.

Thorin sucked in a harsh breath. “All right, we’re all getting out of here, now. Let’s go.”

“No.” The word was softly spoken, but everyone could hear the steel beneath it.

“Kee…”

“Kili, we’re going now. It’s not safe in this place.” _Especially not for you_ , Thorin thought desperately. _Kili, please._

“No,” he repeated implacably. “I’m not leaving her. Not again.”

“What do you mean, again?” Fili demanded. “You don’t even know her!”

Confusion flickered across Kili’s face, but he shook his head. “I do. I don’t know how, but I do. And I’m not leaving.”

Thorin looked helplessly at his youngest nephew, debating the likelihood of success if he tried to physically remove him. He shook his head in defeat, then beckoned his older nephew out of the room.

“Uncle, what should we do?” Fili hissed. “We can’t let him stay here!”

“Give me your phone. I’m calling Gandalf and he won’t answer if I use mine.”

He handed it over but said, “There’s no signal—we’re too far underground.”

Thorin looked at it and muttered a curse. “I’ll have to go back up. Don’t leave your brother. Talk to him—I hear Sigrid talking to him now; she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Both of you talk to him, keep him distracted. He’s obviously under some kind of enchantment; we need to keep him from going farther under. I’ll be back down as soon as I’m done.”

Fili was flushed with pleasure at the unexpected praise of his wife. “What are you going to tell Gandalf? And you should take Bilbo with you or you’re bound to get lost. Bilbo!”

Thorin didn’t waste time arguing. “I’m going to tell him to come fix this. He’s the expert in ancient magic and he’s the one who got us into this—he can damn well come get us out. Dr. Baggins, let’s go—I need you to show me the way back to the entrance.”

They walked rapidly, sickness curling in Thorin as he thought of Kili’s enraptured face. And how was Dr. Baggins finding his way out so easily? The place was a labyrinth.

Bilbo unhesitatingly turned another corner and broke the silence, musing, “You know, I don’t understand why Gandalf insisted you needed me when you already have a linguist in Kili.”

Thorin’s bark of laughter surprised them both. “A linguist? Whatever gave you that idea? He’s terrible with languages; barely passed his required classes in school.”

Bilbo stopped walking. “Truly? Because he was just speaking two of them— well, three, if you count English.”

“What did he say?” Thorin asked slowly, sounding almost afraid to find out.

“Well. The first was Sindarin—”

“He spoke in _Elvish_?”

“Yes, Thorin, Sindarin is indeed a form of Elvish,” Bilbo said with barely restrained irritation, which was entirely unnecessary in Thorin’s mind and since when did he call him by his first name? “He called her Tauriel, which means daughter of the forest… or maybe forest maiden? The rest was Khuzdul, which I trust isn’t so offensive to you?” He threw Thorin a glare. “Terms of endearment mostly, I _think_ , though the accent is different than I expected so that makes it a bit hard to be certain. Definitely Khuzdul, though. So, things about love and I think he said something about finding her? What? What’s wrong?”

The taller man was looking at him with an expression close to horror. “He… Kili. _Kili_ spoke two different dead languages well enough that you understood him.”

Bilbo hesitated before admitting the truth. “Yes.”

Thorin started walking again, fast enough that Bilbo was practically skipping to keep up. “I need to talk to Gandalf. Now.”

“Well, you won’t be able to if you go that way! Turn right!”

 

**_____________________________**

 

On the fourth ring Gandalf finally answered. “Fili, my dear lad! How is everything going there?”

“It’s Thorin, Gandalf. You need to—”

“Thorin!” The infuriating man had the gall to sound cheerful. “You didn’t need to use Fili’s phone— I would have taken your call eventually, you know.”

“I don’t have a week to wait for you to pick up like I did when I was in Rivendell. You—”

“You exaggerate,” he said reproachfully, “it was only five days.”

“What _ever_ , Gandalf; just listen to me!”

“You get angry so easily, Thorin; it can’t be at all good for your health.”

“Listen, you old coot—!”

Bilbo snatched the phone out of Thorin’s hand with a reproving _tsk_. ”Hello, Gandalf.”

"Bilbo, my dear boy,” he said warmly. “How are you getting along there with everyone?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“Indeed? No difficulties with our intemperate Thorin?”

“No, not at all, and quite frankly, he has good reason to be upset. You need to come here straight away.”

“Why, I’ll be there in a week, isn’t that soon enough?”

“No, Gandalf, you need to come now, right now! This place has some sort of enchantment on it; it’s all perfectly preserved, there’s no decay, not even any dust—”

“Indeed?” The complacency in his tone raised Bilbo’s hackles. “Well really, my boy, that doesn’t sound like something to complain about. How have you been enjoying the library?”

“I haven’t had a chance to enjoy the library yet, actually. Listen—”

“Really? You astonish me, Bilbo. I was certain you wouldn’t surface from there except for meals.”

Bilbo’s temper snapped. “See here, Gandalf, I would love to enjoy the library— except that I knew exactly where it was without looking for it, and then Thorin tried to deface the throne room because he hates the pretentiousness of the elf king and how he, he _swings_ his _cloak_ , for heaven’s sake, and there is an _elf maid_ in an _enchanted_ _sleep_ in the dungeons who has _bewitched_ Kili! So forgive me if I am just a little distracted!”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line and he hissed, “So help me, Gandalf, if you just hung up on me…!”

“No, no,” he replied, all amusement gone from his voice. “I beg your pardon, old fellow. I will be there by morning.”

Bilbo huffed. “ _Thank_ you. We will be very glad to see you.” He ended the call and tossed the phone back to Thorin, saying with great disdain, “Honestly, _wizards._ ”

Thorin froze in the middle of rolling his eyes in agreement. “What?”

Bilbo hummed inquiringly, distracted by some carved writing near the door.

“You said ‘wizards’.”

“No, I didn’t.” He frowned up at Thorin with an expression so familiar that Thorin’s stomach twisted. Because he’d spent less than two full days with this man and nothing about him should be _that_ familiar. “Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well… huh. I did, didn’t I? That’s strange. I don’t know why I said that.”

They looked at each other for a long, strained moment before Thorin said, “We should go back down.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed uneasily. “We probably should.”

 

**_____________________________**

 

“She reminds me of someone,” Sigrid said reflectively, staring at the twisting swirls of hair on the floor. “Does she remind you of anyone, Fili?”

“I don’t think… maybe? I don’t know.”

“Maybe she reminds you of herself,” Kili suggested quietly. He had shifted to lean back against the wall and his legs were stretched out in front of him, paralleling the sleeping elf.

“That’s not likely though, is it?” Sigrid’s voice was gentle. “She’s an elf. How could we have known her?”

“I don’t know. But I know I did.” He slid one finger over the curl of hair closest to his leg and closed his eyes. It was the first time he’d touched her, aside from when he’d tried to wake her. “I think I used to dream of her, when I was small. I remember her hair floating around her as she moved and her face glowing… and she would tell me about the stars.”

Fili looked uncomfortably at Sigrid, but she was frowning down at her hands.

“Sig?”

She shook herself out of the odd glimpses of red hair swirling around a green-clad form. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Really, Fili!” She tried to think of something to distract him with. “You know, I had weird dreams too, when I was younger, about this strange man.” She lifted her head and looked at her husband sheepishly. “I don’t know why, because aside from your coloring you don’t look that much like him, but you reminded me of him when I first met you. It’s what caught my attention, actually.”

Kili snickered. “Fili’s your dream man.”

“Shut up, Kili,” she retorted comfortably. “I must have been about twelve… I watched a documentary about dragons and it talked about the one that supposedly destroyed Esgaroth. That night I started dreaming about this man— he was blond like you, Fili, but his hair was long and had braids and clasps in it and he had a beard. There was fire and water everywhere and he was in a little boat, calling, ‘Take my hand!’ I dreamt of him off and on for years.” She shrugged, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, and added pensively, “His mustache was so strange—it was long and braided and swung around when he talked.”

The three of them looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

“That’s what Fili reminded you of, the lunatic mustache!”

“How could he even eat?” Fili gasped.

“I don’t know!” Sigrid wailed. “I always wanted to ask him!”

Kili slumped over and made a keening noise just as Thorin burst into the room, wild-eyed, Bilbo hard on his heels. “What? What is it?”

Kili pointed a shaking finger at Sigrid, which only caused her and Fili to laugh harder.

Bilbo compressed his lips, looking torn between amusement and disgust. “They’re fine, Thorin.”

_“What is so damned funny?!”_

Sigrid shook her head wildly while Fili cackled, helpless tears slipping down his cheeks.

“You know what?” Bilbo huffed. “We probably don’t want to know.”

 

**_____________________________**

 

The cell was almost comfortable now, with the addition of Kili’s bedding and a few camp chairs. They had just tidied away the remains of dinner when Thorin pulled out the voice recorder and announced, “Okay, Bilbo and I will take the first watch down here with Kili, but before you two go up, team review. Fili?”

“Well, there’s an unconscious elf and Kili won’t leave her,” he replied dryly. “And he thinks he used to dream of her when he was little.”

Kili flushed, before grinning wickedly and saying, “Well, Sigrid said she used to dream of you.”

Sigrid went straight past flushing into tomato red. “Kili! I said it wasn’t him!”

“You said that he—”

Thorin rolled his eyes and asked repressively, “Kili, do you have anything useful to add?”

He kept grinning. “Nope.”

“Fine, then be quiet. Sigrid?”

She glared at Kili and shook her head.

“Bilbo?”

“Gandalf’s arriving tomorrow morning,” he said in an incredibly pleasant voice, “and if he doesn’t prove useful I suggest we make him more unconscious than the elf.”

Thorin stared at him incredulously for a long moment before starting to laugh.

 

**_____________________________**

 

Fili and Sigrid were getting settled in their tent when he said offhandedly to his wife, “So, I’m your dream man, huh?”

She sighed. “You’re never going to let me forget about this, are you?”

“Never.” He nuzzled into her neck, making her shriek. “Should I grow a nice long mustache?”

Sigrid giggled helplessly as he pinned her to the ground. “You wouldn’t be able to eat. You’d waste away to nothing.”

“He was a strong, hairy man—he must have managed it.”

She shivered as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone. “You wouldn’t be able to kiss me.”

“I would always be able to kiss you, Sigrid.” He licked a slow line up to her ear. “I could be as hairy as Rip van Winkle. I could be covered in hair, could have a beard to my knees and mustache braids swinging to my waist.” She laughed at the mental image, even as she shuddered at the way he was murmuring against her earlobe. “There is no amount of hair that could ever stop me from kissing you.”

She nudged his head up and kissed her way to his mouth. “Good,” she told him firmly. “So stop talking and do it.”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sigrid grinned. Who needed dream men?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amrâlimê, mamakhhmi asti: My love, I have found you  
> agyâdê – my happiness  
> \--  
> This chapter title is from the song Briar Rose/Aurora sings in Sleeping Beauty, and if you've seen it more than once it's probably stuck in your head now. You're welcome. ;) Alternate titles I really wanted to use even though this one worked better: "Nowadays I'm still the king! And I command you to come to your senses!" and "Why you, you, unreasonable, pompous, blustering old windbag!" :D Next chapter will be up sometime tomorrow. Please let me know what you think!


	4. That look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin remembers things he wishes he could forget. 
> 
> (AKA the chapter in which Thorin and Bilbo, uncaring that this is supposed to be a sweet little Kiliel fairy tale, temporarily hijack the story.)

**Eryn Lasgalen Expedition**

**Day 3**

 

Thorin slid into his sleeping bag well after two in the morning, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. He didn’t often dream, or at least not that he remembered when he woke. But that night, he remembered.

He dreamed of gold.

There was so much of it. Heaps and valleys making an ever-changing relief map of the floor. So much. The room was huge, larger than a football field, filled with mountains of gold.

And it was his. It called to him, it sang his name, it drifted over his hands like music, melted and dripped from his fingers like blood.

drip

.....drip

...........drip

 _Don’t do this_ , Thorin whispered. _Don’t do this again._

 _It’s mine_ , thorin said.

And it was. It was his, it was him, he was the gold and the gold was thorin, and people wanted it. Greedy and jealous and wanted to steal from him wanted to take the only thing that made him important.

 _Stop, stop, please stop_ , Thorin begged.

 _Yes, I must stop them_ , thorin agreed.

There was one thing that would stop them. The King’s Jewel. But it was lost.

One of them had stolen it.

Wicked, tricksy, false. How dare they steal from him?

 _You don’t need the stone_ , Thorin pleaded. _You don’t need the stone or the gold to be king._

 _You’re mad_ , thorin replied.

the gold was him the gold was king without the gold he was nothing he was small he was powerless he was only thorin

_You’re more than that! You have people who follow you, who are loyal; people who love you. Please stop!_

_i refuse to listen to the madness in my blood. i must have the stone to be king._

he saw the way they watched him and frowned and whispered behind their hands

none of them could be trusted

not his blood not his kin not the lads

not even the burglar. why had he trusted the burglar most of all?

 _You would steal from me_? thorin asked. _You you YOU? would steal from me? You?_

 _You have changed, thorin!_ the burglar said.

as though that explained everything

as though that explained _anything_

of course he had changed! the burglar had stolen

stolen the stone stolen the gold stolen the king stolen when thorin had thought had thought had hoped

he felt the burglar’s fragile bones beneath his fingers, knew how easy it would be to snap them _no_ to break them to break him _no no_ to destroy him _stop it!_ to crush him into nothing he who had tried to take _stopitstopit_ everything _noplease!_ everything from him _stopthisstopthisstopthisnow!_

it would be so easy

thorin was glad

 

Thorin was screaming

 

 

 

The world was shaking.

“Wake up! Thorin, it’s just a dream, wake up!”

He opened his eyes, gasping through a raw, dry throat. The burglar was hovering above him, hands on Thorin’s shoulder, his face screwed up with worry.

“There now, that’s better,” the burglar said, artificial calm thinly spread over breathless terror. “Alright now? It was just a dream.”

And Thorin panicked. He shoved away from the burglar and tried to run, but his legs tangled in his sleeping bag and he fell against the wall of his tent, which ripped with a loud shriek.

He lay there, curled into a ball, and tried not to whimper out loud.

The burglar… Bilbo… sat where he had fallen and watched him warily.

“You…you…you…” he stammered, feeling still caught up in his dream, his— no.

It was a dream. It had to only be a dream. Please let it be a dream.

“Burglar?” he asked, despising the weakness of his voice. _Say no, look confused, ask what I’m talking about, please please please say no._

Bilbo closed his eyes for a long moment. Then he straightened himself in a way that was wholly familiar and steadily met his eyes _and why was this familiar none of this should be familiar but Thorin saw sun glinting on his hair and a frown on his face and thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat as he rocked back on big, hairy feet and—_

“Yes,” he said, and Thorin did whimper then, in a way he hadn’t since he was small and had nightmares about dragons. “I think so? I’ve been dreaming a lot lately, too.”

“Then I…” He swallowed hard and tried not to vomit. “Did I kill you?”

Bilbo’s face twitched. “I don’t think so,” he said, but it curled up like a question and Thorin lost control of his stomach, having just enough presence of mind to lean over the shredded wall of his tent before he was sick.

He took the proffered water bottle in a shaking hand and rinsed and spat, then rinsed again. The water burned his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t _you_ , Thorin.” Bilbo’s snappishness was simultaneously comforting ( _because Bilbo always hovered on the edge of testy, that was just how Bilbo should be_ ) and terrifying ( _because Thorin should not know that about him, Bilbo should be new not a well-worn book_.)

“Except that it was,” he contradicted darkly.

“Not in this life. And in that one… you were mad. I understood that.”

“Did you understand when I wanted to break your bones, when I held you over the edge and shook you? When I wanted to kill you? Did you understand it then?!”

“Yes,” Bilbo said evenly, deflating him. “I did.”

Thorin stared at him for a long moment. “You… I don’t… and Kili…” Fili and Kili had been there, he remembered, in his dream— no, Mahal and all the Valar help him, in his _memory_ — looking young and scared and angry, their eyes full of grief as they watched him. “What is this wretched place _doing_ to us?”

Bilbo’s hands twisted in his lap. “I don’t think it’s doing anything, exactly. For some reason being here is helping us remember.”

“Helping,” Thorin repeated, and scoffed.

“Making?”

“Forcing.”

“Yes.” Bilbo sighed wearily. “Forcing is a good word for it.”

“I real—” His voice broke, so he cleared his throat and began again. “I really am sorry.”

A hand hovered over his shoulder for a moment before descending to give him a brisk pat: once, twice. “I forgive you.”

Thorin hunched over and wrapped his arms around his knees in an attempt to hide that he was crying.

Bilbo gazed in the other direction and sang to himself in an attempt to hide that he knew.

**_____________________________**

 

The sun was just rising as Thorin asked hoarsely, “Why are you still here?”

Bilbo stilled. “Would you rather I left?”

“No! No, I just mean… you know what I did.” Self-loathing tinged his voice. “Who I am. Why would you even want to stay here?”

The other man was quiet for a long time before saying abruptly, “I’ve known Gandalf most of my life.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“Just listen and you’ll find out, stubborn thing! And drink some water; you sound dreadful.”

Thorin drank.

“Right, now, where was I? Yes, Gandalf. He delights in being mysterious— you may have noticed this yourself.” Thorin snorted and Bilbo smiled faintly. “I liked it when I was small, but less and less as I got older— and right now I don’t even know if I like _him_! For all his mysteries and meddling, I never thought he was doing any harm, but if he sent us in here _knowing_ about the elf…!”

He sniffed. “Well, that’s not the point. The point is, he approached me about joining your team, oh, months and months ago. Well before the winter. He said that he wanted to give me ample opportunity to decide this time and when I asked him what he meant he just chuckled… oh, I wish I had demanded he explain! Anyway, I’d heard of you, of course— I’d read your papers on your discoveries in Rivendell and the ones on Meduseld and Gondolin— but the first thing I did was google you. I saw your picture and immediately thought, ‘I’m going to kick him in the shin with my big, hairy foot!’” He chuckled uncomfortably. “Which… well, to be completely honest I don’t really like most people, but I’ve never reacted to anyone quite that way, much less a mere photo. Not to mention that I don’t even have big, hairy feet!” He stuck a socked foot out in front of him as if to prove his point. “They have a little hair on them, I mean, I am a man, but I don’t think anyone would consider them _hairy_. So, that was strange.”

“You used to have big, hairy feet,” Thorin murmured. “I remembered them, earlier. You were small, smaller than you are now, but your feet were huge, with curls of hair all over the top.”

“Really?” His brow furrowed in perplexion. “Huh. I wonder what I was? Not like a modern human, certainly. And neither were you, I don’t think. You were built differently… squarer, I guess. Broader and a barrel chest. And shorter, unless you were all huge blocky things.”

“Dwarf.” Thorin felt the rightness of it down into his bones. “I was a dwarf.”

“Hmm, well, what was I then, being shorter than a dwarf? And with those feet?”

“I’m not sure…” he mused. “There are legends about the Ring Wars, about some child-sized people—perhaps you were one of them? We should ask Kili; he loves all those old tales, with elves and...”

Thorin trailed off and they stared at each other, eyes wide.

Bilbo began slowly, as though feeling his way, “You don’t think… I mean, he was there back then. Fili and Kili both, I remember them— squarer and hairier, especially Fili, but it was them. And she’s an elf… and do you know I never even believed in elves? As a separate race, I mean. I always just thought they were humans with different anthromorphic features and… Same thing with dwarves. And, and orcs.” His voice pitched higher. “Dear Eru, Thorin, do you think there _really_ _were_ orcs? They… I thought they were just a losing tribe that was less, less _cultured_ or something, not actual _monsters!_ And I thought the legends about elves ‘sailing’ was just their stories about death, like… like Nordic ship burials! I never once thought they really were immortal! But now…”  He stopped and took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “Do you think it’s possible that Kili knew her back then?”

“I…” Thorin huffed impatiently and admitted, “I want to say it’s impossible and this place is slowly destroying our minds and we should just grab Kili and run, but… I don’t know. If— and this is a big if!— _if_ elves are immortal then… I _suppose_ it is within the realm of possibility.” He made a disgusted noise and shook his head. “Ugh, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I don’t think you liked elves,” Bilbo said contemplatively. “You had such a negative reaction yesterday when you realized Kili was speaking Sindarin. Judging by your reaction to the throne room I bet you knew the Elvenking and didn’t get along with him. And she’s here, so perhaps she belonged—belongs?—to his kingdom. Kili said he wouldn’t leave her ‘again’…”

“Can we just go back to how you wanted to kick me in the shin?” Thorin asked, clearly uncomfortable with where his speculation was going.

“Alright,” Bilbo conceded, sounding faintly amused. “Yes. So, I wanted to kick you in the shin. But then I was reading about you and your family and I kept having these weird reactions like I _knew_ you all. Someone wrote that you were irascible and I snorted and said, ‘Of course he is.’”

“Hey!” Thorin protested.

Bilbo ignored him with an air of perfect indifference. “Someone else wrote about how close you and your nephews are and I just knew it was true. Then I read the abstract of Fili’s doctoral thesis and laughed because ancient bladesmithing? What else could he possibly want to write about? I kept having all these ‘of course’ moments and they disturbed me to the point that I almost told Gandalf to forget it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Too curious, much too curious. You keep drinking that water.”

Thorin looked amused, but obeyed.

“Around that same time I got a very generous offer for a position at the university you teach at, so it wasn’t like I could avoid you forever… and you know what, I bet Gandalf was behind that offer! Give me ‘time to decide’ indeed, the old meddler! He manipulated me right into it!” He crossed his arms and sat there fuming. “I should kick _him_ with my big hairy foot, and not in the shin, either! And you can stop laughing at me, thank you very much.”

With great effort Thorin repressed the laughter in his voice and offered meekly, “To be fair, you did say you were curious.”

“Humph, and whose fault was that? Mark my words, Gandalf knows exactly what is going on and chose not to tell us. Even after he introduced us—”

“And you laughed at me...” Thorin interjected, remembering how offended he’d been.

“Well, you looked down your long nose at me again; what else was I to do?” Bilbo demanded huffily.

“Did I look down my nose at you when we met before?”

“Yes, you did—and it was even longer then! You stood there in my house and looked down your Pinocchio-nose and had the temerity to say that I looked more like a _grocer_ than a burglar. A grocer! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“You have my deepest apologies, Master Baggins,” Thorin intoned gravely.

Bilbo looked at his dancing eyes and huffed with outrage. “You’re insufferable. You’re no better than Kili.”

Thorin just grinned.

“And to think I was going to say something nice about you. I don’t think you deserve it.”

“You were?” he asked smoothly. “What was it? You so seldom say something nice; I would hate to miss it.”

“You just stop it. Using your voice on me like that— next thing I know you’ll be singing and Gandalf probably was there and made you do that too, the big schemer. No, you don’t need to know what I mean; if you want to hear the nice thing just hush up.” Thorin closed his mouth so rapidly that Bilbo snorted. “ _Anyway_. I have the impression that I remember more than you do, about both the good and the bad from before. And there was plenty of bad, mind you— you could be rude and grumpy and downright unkind.

“But you loved your family and your people so much, and you would have died for any one of us. You… I don’t remember all the details, but one night we were sitting by the campfire and you were telling me your plans for Erebor and how you were going to bring all your people home and there would be plenty of work and plenty of food…” He frowned. “And now I think of it, everyone else was pretending they weren’t listening to us, but I know they were, the bunch of nosy parkers. Humph. Anyhow, I respected you. You could be highly annoying, but you were honorable. And… and admirable. Sometimes.

“So, yes. I know what you did to me, and what you… what you might have done. And I know who you are.” His voice turned fierce. “But they’re not the same thing. Because the worst thing about your illness was that it turned you into the complete opposite of who you are— who you were, I mean— and into everything you most hated.” He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at the other man. “So. That’s why I didn’t leave. Did you finish the water yet?”

Thorin held the empty bottle where he could see it. “Thank you, Bilbo,” he said softly, then stilled, his hand suspended in mid-air. “Wait. Did you say Erebor? I was king—or trying to be king—of _Erebor_? Gandalf’s been trying to get me to go to Erebor for years!”

Bilbo’s head snapped around. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! In fact… you know I didn’t expect to find anything here. I thought he was sending us on a wild goose chase this summer to punish me for refusing to go.”

“That… that manipulative—”

“Bilbo! Thorin! Whatever happened to your tent? And what is that smell? Has someone been ill?”

They glared at the tall man smiling benignly down at them and growled in unison, “ _You!_ ”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, well. Things have moved apace, haven’t they?”

Bilbo hopped to his feet and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you start with your obfuscations and your distractions! You will answer us honestly and… and simply, if you please! Did you know, when you sent us here, about our lives before? Were you there then, too?”

“Yes,” Gandalf replied.

“Then why in Eru’s name did you send us here?!” Bilbo nearly shrieked.

“I sent Thorin in hopes his subconscious would remember enough that he would want to go to Erebor. I sent you because I thought it would be interesting, and, I admit, as a way to make amends to your former self.”

“As a way to… what are you even talking about? And are you _mad_ , Gandalf? Don’t you remember what happened last time he went to Erebor?!”

Gandalf’s brow quirked as Bilbo clutched at Thorin’s arm in a way that could only be called protective, but he replied mildly, “Oh, that curse has long been broken. Indeed, he broke it himself! It was quite unprecedented.”

Thorin cut across Bilbo’s splutters, demanding impatiently, “Did I kill him?”

Gandalf frowned in genuine confusion. “Who? Do you mean Azog?”

_the huge orc was bearing down with all his weight the blade growing ever closer but Thorin wasn’t going to let him win Thorin was going to kill him Thorin was going to kill him before he died and obliterate him for what he’d done to his grandfather and his father and Fili oh Mahal his little Fili broken dead frozen and Thorin would die Thorin deserved to die but_

_Azog_

_was going to die_

**_first_ **

 

“Thorin?”

He blinked and _FiliFiliFilineedtoseeFili_ cleared his throat. “No. I meant Bilbo. Did I kill Bilbo?”

“Oh. No, of course not— you can’t believe I would send Bilbo here if I thought he’d be in any danger?” He had the gall to sound genuinely offended. “Or you or the boys or dear Sigrid?”

Bilbo, sounding so infuriated that Thorin actually smiled, snapped, “You _sent us_ to an _enchanted castle,_ Gandalf! An enchanted castle with an unconscious _elf_ in the cellar—one Kili apparently knew before, so don’t expect us to believe _that_ is a coincidence! And you knew! You knew that we all knew each other before! You knew that we’d been here before and that we would remember all this, all this _trauma_ and—”

“I didn’t expect that you would actually _remember_ ,” Gandalf interrupted. “People generally don’t, you know. You have both spent your lives surrounded by people from the past without it causing any of you to remember. And I had no idea there was still an elf here. I didn’t understand why the Master, ah, I mean _Masters_ , was unable to find any trace of the Halls after searching for so long in what I knew was the correct vicinity, so I was here only long enough to see that they still existed. I left going inside and any discoveries to you.”

Thorin and Bilbo both opened their mouths and Gandalf waved them to silence. “My point is, while I had no idea what you would find here, I never expected it to be anything out of the ordinary or for there to be any magic involved whatsoever, much less elves and enchantments. Nor did I expect you to remember all the disturbing things you apparently have, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Bilbo broke the ensuing silence. “Well. That’s fine then. I still don’t see what you were hoping to accomplish by sending me, because if this is your idea of making amends I must say I find it a very strange one.”

For a moment Gandalf looked old, and so very, very weary. “You lived a long life, Bilbo, longer than any other of your race. And you never would speak of it, but you grieved, and bore the weight of that grief to the end. I hoped perhaps things could go more happily for you this time.”

Bilbo opened his mouth and closed it again, firmly, afraid to ask.

“I died,” Thorin said, so quietly it was nearly a whisper. “And Fili.”

Bilbo flinched.

“Not just you two, but yes.” Gandalf’s eyes were distant. “There was a massive battle. Somehow you had thrown off your madness, Thorin— I never had the chance to ask you how you did it. Things were going well enough, but then you and some of the others were ambushed.”

“Who?” Thorin asked through numb lips. “Who else died?”

“Kili,” Gandalf said with unprecedented gentleness, but Thorin still staggered, catching himself against a tree.

“Both of them,” he whispered. His fingers tightened against the bark and he covered his eyes with a shaking hand. “Oh Mahal, poor Dis.”

“Right, that’s quite enough for now,” Bilbo said with the air of a proclamation, eying Thorin worriedly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We will all feel better for a good meal, so we’re going to get some food and take it down to the kids—and hopefully we won’t be scarred for life the way I was last night when we came to wake Fili and Sigrid up for their shift! Seriously, Thorin, you get to wake them next time! Anyway, Thorin can hug the boys and we’ll eat, and then you, Gandalf, are going to figure out what to do about the elf.” He frowned at them, his foot tapping impatiently. “Well? What are you waiting for? Grab the food and let’s go!”

 

**_____________________________**

 

Bilbo peered warily around the corner of the cell and Thorin snorted behind him. “Really, what do you think they would get up to in the same room as Kili and the elf?”

“I’m the one who is scarred, thank you; I am allowed to be cautious. I never want to see that much of Fili ever again,” he retorted primly. “Not that you aren’t right, in this case—they look more like a litter of puppies than anything.”

They were in a pile of sleeping bags and blankets, Fili and Kili slumped against each other with their backs to the wall and Sigrid curled up with her head in Fili’s lap. The ends of the elf’s hair twined through Kili’s fingers and pooled in his open palm.

“Well,” Gandalf said quietly. “That is indeed an elf.”

“Of course it’s an elf,” Bilbo hissed, exasperation rolling from him in waves. “Did you think we wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between an elf and a human?”

“No, my dear Bilbo, I thought there weren’t any elves left. There shouldn’t be, you know. They are no longer part of Middle-earth.”

“But… what does that even mean?!”

“You’re breaking your own agenda here, Bilbo,” Thorin reminded him. “Let’s eat, then Gandalf can figure all this out.”

Bilbo scrubbed a hand over his face. “Right, right. Hug the lads first, then food.”

Thorin smiled at him before bellowing, “Boys! Breakfast! And only the elf should be sleeping!”

Kili startled like an infant and whacked Sigrid’s shoulder a bare second before Fili spilled her off his lap, jumping to his feet and reaching for a nonexistent weapon. Her startled shriek echoed off the stone walls and Bilbo folded his arms and tsked disapprovingly. “Shame on you, Thorin, involving Sigrid in that.”

He shrugged. “She chose to marry into the family. She knew what she was getting into. Lads, here, now!” They staggered to him and he pulled them in, pressing their heads to his temples and closing his eyes.

“Uncle, are you okay?” Kili mumbled.

When Thorin’s only response was to shudder and clutch them tighter, Bilbo said briskly, “He’s had a very difficult few hours, so give him a hug and then let’s eat. And then Gandalf,” he slanted a dark look that direction, “can tell us exactly what is going on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My take on Thorin in this is that he's essentially the same guy as in the Hobbit-- a type-A personality, strong-willed, devoted to his calling and a natural leader-- but he's had a good life this time around. He hasn't been impacted by madness in his family or a wandering exile or spent a large portion of his life trying to provide a home and prosperity for a homeless nation. He's never been as angry or desperate in this lifetime, nor has there been any insanity in his family to even make him think he could fall prey to it (as Gandalf said, in this AU the madness was actually the result of a curse), so discovering what he'd done (and wanted to do) to Bilbo profoundly horrified and upset him.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be up sometime tomorrow. Happy Independence Day to my US readers, and happy Tuesday to the rest of you. :)


	5. And from this slumber you shall wake, when true love's kiss, the spell shall break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the mystery is solved.

 

 

**Eryn Lasgalen Expedition**

**Day 3, continued**

 

“I am not going to kiss her!”

Fili snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

“She’s not even conscious! I’m not going to assault her in her sleep!”

“No one’s asking you to assault her, Kili,” his uncle told him dryly. “Believe me, none of us want to see that.”

“I’ve seen enough already,” Bilbo muttered. Fili pointedly ignored him.

Kili’s outraged gaze settled on his sister-in-law. “Sigrid, if you were unconscious would you want some guy kissing you?!”

“No,” she admitted. “But what if this is the only way to wake her up? You can’t sit down here forever.”

“ _Is_ this the only way to wake her up?” he demanded of Gandalf. “Isn’t there something else I can do?”

“This is a way which _could_ wake her. It’s something that has been known to work in the past,” the wizard replied irritably. “But as I told you all earlier, I’m not certain what sort of spell she’s under. It’s not wizard-cast, nor does it feel Elvish, and it’s certainly not part of the enchantment that’s been placed on the Halls. No, _that_ is entirely different. So I’m afraid the only way to see if it works _is to_ _try it_.” His voice turned reassuring. “She won’t mind, I promise you. After all, she already kissed _you_.”

The room erupted into confusion, Kili’s voice finally rising above the clamor. “When? Why don’t I remember that?”

“Oh, well, you wouldn’t be able to remember it.”

“Was it when I was ill? Because I remember her being there then, and glowing and stuff.”

“I don’t think so,” Fili argued. “I was dreaming about that last night, and I don’t think you were ever alone with her. Besides, Gandalf wasn’t there for that, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t. It—”

“It was when he was dead,” Sigrid interrupted, squeezing Fili’s hand convulsively. She looked nauseous. “Right, Gandalf?”

He inclined his head. “You are correct.”

Kili flinched. “Oh, Tauriel,” he murmured, distressed.

“I didn’t witness it,” Gandalf continued, “but Legolas told me about it many years later, after he and Gimli sailed to the Undying Lands.”

“Who?” asked Fili blankly.

“Sailed to _where_? What are you talking about?” Thorin demanded.

“Gimli,” Bilbo muttered. “Gimli. I know that name.” His head shot up. “Wait, is that Gloin’s son?”

“Gloin doesn’t have a son,” Thorin objected. “He only has the girls.” Bewilderment flashed across his face. “But... No. He did. He did have a son then. He never shut up about him. If we’re all here now, why isn’t he?”

“As I said, he went to the Undying Lands. He never died, therefore he could never be reborn.”

“Wait,” Sigrid exclaimed. “You must have been there too, or that Leg-whatever-his-name-is couldn’t have told you about it. So how are _you_ here, then?”

“My dear Sigrid,” Gandalf replied smugly, “I am a wizard. I am not subject to the same constraints as other races.”

“In other words,” Bilbo commented a little sourly, “you do whatever you want.”

Gandalf laughed outright. “Not nearly so often as you think, or as I should wish! And now, Kili, it is your turn to do what you would rather not. Let us see if a kiss is the answer to this riddle.”

Kili sighed, and gently smoothed Tauriel’s hair off her cheek. “For the record, I still object to doing this while she’s unconscious.”

“Yes, yes, we know,” his uncle grumbled. “Just do it already.”

He leaned forward, the lines of his face softening as he looked at her. Then his eyes closed, and their lips touched, and the entire room stilled, unbreathing.

He straightened, tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear, his fingers lingering.

The room exhaled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Well,” Gandalf said unnecessarily, “that didn’t work.”

**_____________________________**

The day wore on. Gandalf tried numerous incantations, muttered about the spells he used to know, and lamented the lack of something called athelas. He and Bilbo spent hours in the depths of the library, only to emerge irritable (Gandalf) and anxious (Bilbo).

Kili spent the day sitting next to Tauriel.  He held her hand, rubbing his thumb over the callouses from her bow, and tried not to think about what he would do if she never woke up.

“You okay?” Sigrid asked him quietly, forcing a sandwich into his free hand.

He looked at her and then away. She kissed the top of his head and sat down close beside him, Fili sitting next to her, sliding his arm behind her so he could put his hand, warm and heavy, on the back of Kili’s neck.

Thorin and Bilbo watched him worriedly from across the room.

Gandalf paced the walkway and muttered.

There’s a sandwich in his hand.

What will he do if she never wakes up?

**_____________________________**

Fili kept his hand on the back of his baby brother’s neck long after his shoulder cramped and he lost the feeling in two of his fingers.

He was afraid.

Kili had been sitting there for hours, unmoving, his dull eyes fixed on Tauriel. In his entire life, even in his sleep, he had never stayed still for so long. When they’d been small, Kili’s unceasing motion had driven him crazy and more than one argument had started by Fili snapping at his brother to “just stop that!” or “leave that alone!” or “why can’t you just be still for five minutes!”

He would give anything to see Kili be his usual annoying, lovable, whirling dervish self.

“We should call your mother,” Sigrid said quietly. He looked over at his uncle, only to see an unsure expression on his face.

“If nothing changes, we’ll call her tonight,” Thorin decided finally. He ran a hand over his face and slumped back against the wall.

Kili was motionless and Thorin didn’t know what to do. Everything was wrong and Fili had never been so afraid in his life.

What would they do if she wouldn’t wake up?

**_____________________________**

Gandalf rushed into the room, making everyone start. “Have any of you moved her? Or is she just as you found her?”

“We haven’t moved her,” Thorin replied. “We thought it better not to.”

“You’ve figured it out?” Sigrid asked eagerly, just as Bilbo exclaimed, “You know how to wake her?”

“No.”

Everyone deflated.

“Well, perhaps,” he temporized. “I don’t know. Let’s lay her on the bench; we’re looking for jewelry, or anything with markings, or an injury, or something in her mouth, or… well, anything, really. Anything that looks out of place or significant.”

Kili got to his feet obediently and shifted her towards himself so he could lift her. He looked at the hard stone of the bench and balked. He knew it was ridiculous, since she’d spent Valar knew how many centuries with her cheek pressed to that same stone, but it looked so uncomfortable.

Actually, he remembered with perfect clarity exactly how uncomfortable it was and he wasn’t putting her on it.

“It’s okay, Kili,” Sigrid told him, and he wasn’t sure if he’d said it out loud or if she’d suddenly developed an ability to read his mind. “We’ll put down a sleeping bag and pillow, alright?”

He reluctantly lay her down on the improvised bed and tried to smooth her mass of hair into a tidy bundle while Sigrid straightened the skirt of her gown. Then they stepped back to make room for everyone to crowd around.

“Well, no jewelry that I can see,” Fili commented. “Wait, does she have something in her hand?”

They all craned their necks forward. The hand Kili had been holding was relaxed, the fingers gently curved. Her other hand was tightly closed.

“The way she was sitting, we couldn’t see that hand before,” Sigrid realized. “Is she holding something?”

Gandalf leaned past Kili and gently picked up her hand, turning it upwards so they could see. Then they all spoke at once:

“She _is_ holding something!” (Sigrid, excited)

“It’s something dark. A stone, or…?” (Fili, inquisitive)

“Is it cursed? Is that why she’s sleeping?” (Thorin, suspicious)

“Is it some kind of evil artifact?” (Bilbo, fretting)

 _“What is it?”_ (Kili, desperate)

Gandalf closed his eyes and hovered his hand over hers for a long moment, then opened them, all tension gone. “Well, it’s not cursed or evil, but there is a spell on it. I do believe it is the answer to our question. Kili, please see if you can remove it from her hand.”

He took her hand from the wizard and tried to pull her fingers back, but they wouldn’t move and he didn’t want to hurt her. Perhaps if he slid his fingers under the stone he could push it out? He could see the edge of it peeking out of the circle of her thumb and forefinger, so he wedged his fingertip under the curl of her pinky to see if he could move it farther over.

“Good grief, Tauriel,” he muttered. Her fingers were like iron, completely unyielding. He pushed harder and his finger jolted forward, finally touching the stone.

And her fingers opened.

The stone fell from her suddenly lax hand and he fumbled it, almost dropping it on the ground. When he finally grasped it securely, he held it up so everyone could see the smooth surface, then flipped it over to expose the carving he could feel beneath his fingertips.

“ _Innikh dê_ ,” Bilbo read, then translated, “Return to me.”

“ _Amad_ ,” Fili breathed.

But Kili didn’t hear them. Kili was on the shore of a lake, devastation all around him, Tauriel before him, her beautiful face so uncertain as he told her he wasn’t afraid. And he wasn’t, though Mahal knew he should be, he wasn’t, because she was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d never known he needed and she was there in the world with him so how _could_ he be afraid? _Amrâlimê_ he’d called her, and he had never said a truer thing in all of his life.

She said she didn’t know what he meant, but he knew she did.

She’d kept the runestone. He’d pushed it into her hand, but _she’d kept it_.

“You do,” he told her, both the Tauriel on the lakeshore and the one on the wretched bench in his old prison cell. He held her hand in both of his, the stone pressed between their palms. “You do know what I meant.”

The hand he was holding twitched.

He froze so suddenly and completely that it captured everyone’s attention. “Tauriel?”

Her hand moved again, sharply this time, jerking out of his grasp as her whole body convulsed.

And then light _exploded_ from her.

 

 

 

It wasn’t a gentle glow, or beautiful, as it was when she’d healed him. This was violent, too bright to look upon. A wind was blowing and even though there wasn’t any heat he was sure she was being burned from the inside out, and he was screaming her name and begging Gandalf to save her, barely able to hear his own voice over the shouts of the others and the wizard’s foreign chanting swelling and rising to an inhuman peak.

 

 

 

And then… as quickly as it began it was over. The wind and the terrible light were gone and Tauriel lay there in the loud silence looking almost as she had before. She sighed, and stretched, and sat up. She frowned at first, uncomprehending, but then stilled, her eyes wide.

“Kili?” she asked. Or perhaps pleaded, or perhaps exulted.

“Tauriel,” he whispered, and she knew everything he meant.

 

 

 

It was hard to determine which one lunged forward first.

 

 

 

But what did it matter? They were there on the floor, jumbled together in kisses and fierce Sindarin and Khuzdul whispers, surrounded by people who loved him and would love her. Fili kissed Sigrid soundly through her tears and pulled her down to join the heap on the floor, while Bilbo sniffled and muttered crossly and Thorin laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

Gandalf stood back in the corner of the cell, watching the pandemonium, and began to laugh.

**_____________________________**

“Well, Thorin,” Gandalf said later as they strolled out of the Elvenking’s Halls. “Next summer in Erebor?”

“Fine, fine, you win,” Thorin groused, and tried not to appear as if he was looking forward to it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Innikh dê- Return to me  
> Amad- mother  
> Amrâlimê- My love
> 
> Sorry for depriving Gloin and his wife of Gimli, but I really needed Thranduil to be permanently stuck in the Undying Lands. Obviously, for the purposes of this AU Hobbit!Bilbo chose to die in Middle Earth instead of sailing there. I haven't decided about Frodo and Sam-- what do you think they would have chosen to do? 
> 
> The epilogue will be posted sometime tomorrow!


	6. Oh... I just love happy endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are explanations, and glimpses of the future

Tauriel was no longer an Elf.

  
“I _told_ you,” Gandalf said blandly, “there are no more Elves here on earth. Really, why don’t you people listen to me?”

“So that horrible light and the wind, that was her changing into a human?” Kili demanded. “Why did it happen like that?”

The wizard shrugged, his eyes focused on the tobacco he was packing into his pipe. “My dear boy, I haven’t the foggiest notion.”

“And you wonder why we don’t listen to you,” Bilbo muttered. The Durin men tried unsuccessfully to turn their laughter into coughing.

Gandalf ignored them all with an air of sublime indifference.

He did have some useful things to say, one of which was that the enchantment on the Halls was holding steady. They wouldn’t ever be able to write up their discoveries, but they could explore to their hearts’ content and visit whenever they wanted. “If you want a private getaway, you can’t do better than a place no one else can even see,” he pointed out.

“We should name it something different,” Kili mused later that night. “I know! How about the Oakenshield Resort! You know all the Company’s going to end up here at some point.”

Tauriel replied dryly, “I can think of nothing more likely to prompt King Thranduil to find a way back here from the Undying Lands.”

“Ugh, _no_ ,” said Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo in perfect unison.

“Let’s find a different name,” Sigrid added firmly.

Tauriel laughed so hard she pulled a muscle in her side.

 

**_____________________________**

 

The enchantment on the Halls was centered on memory, Gandalf told them. That was why only people who had been there before could see them, and why everything remained in the condition it was in when the spell was cast. That also was why being there had brought memories of their former lives to the forefront of their minds. “And it’s unlikely to stop now that it’s begun,” he warned them. “After you return home the memories shouldn’t be so vivid or intrusive as they are here— it’s likely you will recover them while dreaming, as happened on a lesser scale before you came here— but you will most definitely continue to remember.”

 

**_____________________________**

And so it was. Sometimes there were dreams about what had happened…

 

 

Bilbo slammed open the door of Thorin’s office and stood there seething until Dwalin said a highly amused goodbye and left.

“What?” Thorin asked warily.

Bilbo stormed up to him and punched his arm, hard.

“Ow! Bilbo! What was that for?”

Dwalin guffawed outside the door and Bilbo bellowed, “Go away or I’ll punch you, too, you ruddy eavesdropper!” He jabbed his finger into Thorin’s chest. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You know, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific! What are you even doing here? I thought you were taking a nap because you have that late… class…”

Bilbo glared at him.

Thorin sighed. “You did take a nap. What did you remember now?”

“We were pinned down by orcs and wargs,” he hissed. “And Gandalf thought it was a fine idea to light pinecones on fire even though we were in _trees_ , which are highly flammable, thank you! And then you jumped down and went on a majestic jog through the flames to confront this, this _giant_ orc on his giant warg and nearly got your fool self killed! And why are you smiling at me?!”

“Because I remember this, and you saved me.”

“Well, I wasn’t about to let that foul thing kill you,” Bilbo grumbled. “I’d rather do that myself.”

“Naturally,” Thorin replied, still smiling. “Majestic, was I?”

“Oh, shut up.”

 

**_____________________________**

 

There were dreams that were true long before anyone realized it…

 

 

“Sigrid! Where are you, woman? I haven’t seen you for weeks!”

Fili abandoned his duffel bag in the living room and rounded the corner to the kitchen. His wife took one look at him and dropped the bowl in her hand, reaching blindly for the counter.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, panicked. He ran over and grabbed her shoulders. “Is it the baby?”

“You grew a beard,” she replied faintly.

“I can shave it off! It was a huge pain to shave in the mountain—we all ended up growing them, even Bilbo. Kili kept snickering at him, saying it was just wrong; I thought Bilbo might kill him in his sleep. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re really pale.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s fine. It looks fine, it’s just… Here, hold still.” She held her pinkies up to the corners of his mouth and squinted at him.

A huge smile spread across his face. “No. Way. You’re joking.” He squatted down and swayed, pretending to be on a boat. “What was it? Take my hand?” He held his hand out dramatically and yelled, “Take my hand, Sigrid, my love, my one and only! Take my hand!”

Sigrid took his hand and used it to push him over, and he sprawled there, laughing. She collapsed into a chair, looking flabbergasted. “You know what this means? Kili was right!” She clutched at her head. “I can’t believe I’m even saying that. The world must be ending.”

He propped his chin on her knee. “It means I’m your dream man,” he retorted cockily.

She ran her fingers over his beard and then raked her nails through it, making him shudder. It may be noticed that she didn’t argue. What she did say was, “Don’t even _think_ about growing your mustache long enough for braids.”

“Aw, come on! How will we ever know how I was able to eat then?”

“I’d rather you show how you can kiss me,” she said mildly.

He grinned, rising up on his knees to do just that. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

**_____________________________**

 

And then there were the dreams that weren’t true at all…

  


Kili kissed Tauriel awake.

“Hmm… what is it?” she murmured sleepily.

“I was dreaming we were back in Mirkwood.” He nuzzled into her hair and kissed her neck. “And you came into my cell and told me you’d changed your mind. That it _was_ your duty to search me and see what was in my trousers.”

She pushed back from him. “That did _not_ happen.”

He smiled winningly at her. “It could have— _should_ have! You were derelict in your duties.”

Tauriel stared at him for a long moment, the corners of her mouth twitching, then deliberately slid her hands beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. “Oh, look!” she said brightly. “There _is_ something in here after all!”

He made an outraged noise that morphed into a moan.

She needed to search him thoroughly, after all.

“You know,” he said breathlessly, a long while later, “I remember what we were wearing. We could go back to the palace and re-enact things...”

Tauriel laughed, but didn’t say no.

 

 

 

Those were the dreams that were perhaps best of all: the dreams that weren’t true, but could be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you've enjoyed reading this, and I would love to hear what you think. :D

**Author's Note:**

> mell nin: my beloved  
> fea: soul, or spirit  
> \--  
> Okay, so I came to edit the end note and deleted it instead. *weeps* I'll try to remember what it said... 
> 
> All chapter titles from Disney's Sleeping Beauty-- this one is from the opening sequence. I'd planned to base this on the earliest Sleeping Beauty tales, but then I read them and changed my mind. (Raped while unconscious then waking up while in labor with the product of said rape, anyone? No? o_O Seriously, holy crap.) Regarding Tauriel's fea leaving her: I read a description of elves fading due to lost love that described it that way, that their fea would leave and search the world for the loved one. Not sure if that was really Tolkien's idea, but it gave me the idea for this. In case it isn't already obvious, this story doesn't cling closely to canon, especially where magical capabilities and the Undying Lands are concerned. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
